


Wash Away

by altered_eagle



Series: City Goblins [12]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alfred Pennyworth has the patience of a saint, Bruce Wayne is a Mother Hen, Caretaking, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, Joker whump, M/M, Medical, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Praise Kink, SUCH FLUFF, Sickfic, Soft BDSM, Teasing, The Babysitter's Club - Freeform, The Joker has a weird taste in movies, much cuddles, so much fucking fluff youse guise, surprise surprise, the return to Gay Island, with doses of grossness for good measure because hey it me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2018-12-18 00:11:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11862570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altered_eagle/pseuds/altered_eagle
Summary: Wayne walks slightly behind Alfred and the Joker now, pulling suitcases along and wondering vaguely if he’s made the right decision. If he has the right to take the Joker away from the streets that rile him. But regardless of who cares for him the Joker needs time and fluids,medication and rest. He needs to heal, and it’s going to take a while.Recovery from major trauma is messy...even for The Joker.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> futilefear gave me a prompt that turned into something else so here it is: The Big Gay Return To Bruce's Big Gay Island. [Here's the story where Bruce's Big Gay Island is introduced as a setting.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6164346/chapters/18023338)
> 
> There's warnings here for some semi-graphic descriptions of injury recovery, and a non-graphic description of one character helping another in the bathroom. It ain't watersports though so it will not be tagged as such.

[Wash Away: Joe Purdy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YTdCzIduUb4)

They take Wayne's private jet in the middle of the night.

When they arrive Alfred has to push the Joker up the stone walkway in a wheelchair; he can’t use crutches due to cracked ribs on both sides, and he’s pretty weak besides. (He’d never admit that though.) Still, 

once the Joker was in his right mind he’d accepted Wayne’s offer to come back here without question.

Wayne walks slightly behind Alfred and the Joker now, pulling suitcases along and wondering vaguely if he’s made the right decision. If he has the right to take the Joker away from the streets that rile him. But regardless of who cares for him the Joker needs time and fluids,

medication and rest. He needs to heal, and it’s going to take a while. 

Wayne knew that when he took the Joker in. He made that decision, knows can never turn the Joker down when he’s hurting like this when he doesn’t even ask

to be saved. 

When Sofia Falcone decided she wanted the clown dead after a stunt he pulled on Christmas she’d had him released from Arkham a week later,

only to descend on him with every Gothamite she could find who had it in for him as well.

Batman had witnessed the fury with which the Joker fought back, until he was torn to ribbons, until 

Batman finally found him curled in a pool of blood the back of his van, 

shaking,

he was delirious from pain, was 

dry firing his pistol into the sky and laughing and laughing and laughing even when it came out as a strangled whisper of a sound, even when Batman had to restrain him and stuff him into the front seat of the Tumbler, even when Batman removed his cowl and took him in his arms and pleaded with him to stop, to breathe, 

to just breathe.

 

Wayne holds the Joker now, on the sofa in the living room, and

is grateful.

He’s never seen the Joker in this much visible pain before. 

Wayne holds him.

Rubs his sore shoulders, wipes the sweat from his face, holds up a glass of water for him.

He watches any film the Joker requests (Aladdin, Some Like It Hot, Pink Flamingos)

lets the Joker clutch at his shirt when the pain spikes

takes the Joker to the bathroom and stays with him while he urinates, strokes his hair when he hisses because his left kidney is a little bruised, 

and going to the bathroom hurts him. 

Alfred brings them lunch, which the Joker doesn’t touch and Wayne mostly picks at. The compound of physical discomfort and nausea from pain medication has effectively ruined the Joker’s appetite and Wayne can’t convince him to eat anything yet. But he can drink easily enough, and his IV drip is supplemented with nutrients, so Wayne doesn’t bother him about the eating. 

He’s got enough to deal with as it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS STORY IS MOSTLY FINISHED, it just needs some tinkering. i won't leave y'all hanging ok


	2. Chapter 2

In the late afternoon Wayne carries the Joker out to the balcony and helps him lie in a lounge chair so that he can get some air and sun. He’s not hurting as much now that he’s been resting for hours, but he’s still exhausted from bodily trauma and blood loss to the point 

where he can barely sit up without assistance. 

The two of them laze around and watch the sea. They watch the sunset bleed red and yellow and orange over the horizon, and onto the water. Just before the sun dips below the horizon line they see a humpback whale breach up high, 

and slam back into the tide,

and the Joker’s face lights up for the first time since Wayne pulled him broken and bleeding from the back of his van. Wayne has never been so grateful 

to see that old spark in his friend’s eye, 

to see something (anything) shining through the dull glaze of pain and morphine. 

After the Joker drinks a bottle and a half of gatorade Wayne changes his IV bag and sets to work on cleaning up his injuries. 

There are plenty.

There are so many that an ordinary man might not have survived. 

Wayne takes his time as he cleans the Joker’s sixty-seven stitches two bullet wounds and multiple scrapes along his arms and shins. He has to use iodine and neosporin, rubbing alcohol and warm water. Wayne could have asked Alfred for help but he doesn’t. Alfred is relaxing now, in his own beach house down the path, and Wayne doesn’t have half the heart to disturb him. The old man has already done enough; he was the one who dug the bullet out of the Joker’s left forearm. 

He was the one who stitched the three-inch long wound on the Joker’s scalp. 

 

When Wayne’s finished bandaging the worst of the Joker’s road rash he pulls off his gloves and asks: _What do you want me to read._ The Joker chuckles, flinches. 

_Gonna read to me?_ His voice sounds like nails scraping on glass. 

_Sure, if you want. i thought it might get your mind off of how you’re feeling._ The Joker doesn’t respond but doesn’t deny that he’s feeling bad, which is troubling in itself. Wayne reaches for a stack of newspapers at his side. _i have the closest local paper or the Wall Street Journal, plus a couple of books on my phone._

 _The Gotham Gazette,_ the Joker says immediately but Wayne shakes his head.

 _Nothing from Gotham,_ he says, trying to sound stern. _You need to rest for a while yet, and that includes that overactive brain of yours._

_Buzzkill,_ the clown growls and Wayne feels himself smiling.

 _Do you want me to read to you or not._ The Joker lets out a put-upon sigh, and points to the Wall Street Journal.

 _Let’s see if my stocks have fucked me over yet, at least,_ he grumbles, and Wayne feels his smile widen. 

Any spirit that the Joker shows is a step in the right direction. It means that he’s doing a little better, and at this point

Wayne couldn’t ask for more. He picks up the newspaper, flips to the stocks

and begins to read aloud.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's getting there.

No doctor or nurse or therapist on the planet would believe that the Joker’s actually not difficult to take care of, not when Bruce Wayne is the one in charge of his care, and

he’s sedated and pliable from opiate pain medication. The Joker lets Wayne bathe him and brush his hair and help him sit up without a single complaint beyond the occasional huff. 

Some would call it a miracle. 

Wayne doesn’t know what to call it.

 

On the fourth morning when the Joker’s a bit stronger Wayne talks him into eating a little, and keeps him on promethazine for an hour afterwards. He looks a bit ill when he’s finished but he doesn’t get sick, so Wayne counts that as a victory and sits on the coffee table across from him, tells him:

 _You seem to be doing a little better now. If the signal goes up i’ll have to leave, and Alfred will stay with you. Is that alright?_ The Joker rolls his eyes from the television to Wayne. He seems to be having trouble focusing.

_He’s not helping me take a fucking shower_

 _i know,_ Wayne interrupts quickly. _i know. Believe me, he feels the same way. I think you can at least take a bath by yourself now anyway, if he helps you in and out of the tub...but he’s agreed to help with whatever else you need, and that includes taking care of your injuries._ Wayne hears his voice growing stern out of habit but he can’t stop it _We’re not taking any chances with infection; you’re a high enough risk as it is and i won’t lose you to something like that not when we’ve already worked so fucking hard just to_

 _Bruce_ , the Joker says quietly, _slow down_ and Wayne stops, didn’t realize how fast he’d been talking. The clown makes a come here motion with his hand and Wayne does, sits beside the Joker on the sofa, takes the Joker into his lap, kisses his forehead (twice) runs his fingers through the Joker’s bleached green hair until 

his pulse slows. Until the adrenaline in his veins disperses. 

_i’m okay Bruce._ The Joker says and reaches up, brushes his knuckles against Wayne’s cheek. _i’m okay thanks to you, and your old man. i’m just busted up._

_You sure are_ , Wayne agrees. _When. When i found you, for a minute there i was wondering if you’d make it._ The Joker nods. 

_You would have been the one to find me, either way. i mean it’d probably fuck you up but that would’ve been a pretty romantic end on my part…_

 _That’s awful_ , Wayne tells him. 

_Maybe_ , the Joker concedes. _Anyway, you should stop agonizing over me because your old man and i will get along fine, and everything will **be** fine, because if it’s not you’ll kick it’s ass until it is._

_You’re pretty high_ , Wayne remarks. The Joker rolls his dilated eyes. 

_You know what i mean. Everything will be fine because you’ll make it fine._

_You don’t know that,_ Wayne whispers but the Joker shakes his head against Wayne’s leg.

_i do,_ he murmurs and his breath sends chills down Wayne’s spine. _i do._


	4. Chapter 4

On the seventh day the signal does go up, and Wayne wakes to the alarm going off in his room. Beside him the Joker mumbles something about cabbages and pulls a pillow over his head, and Wayne smiles despite the ache that’s settled into his heart. Part of him wants to shut the alarm off kiss the Joker’s outstretched hand roll over and close his eyes again but Wayne knows

that he can’t. The Joker may need him, but he’s safe here, and right now Gotham needs Batman more.

Wayne’s heart hurts.

He doesn’t want to leave.

* * *

_Your butler doesn’t have to do this,_ the Joker tells Wayne as he watches him dress. _If you want him to come check in on me that’s fine but i can get around on my own._

 _You really can’t,_ Wayne remarks, and the clown glowers at him. _It’s been a week, Joker_ , Wayne reminds him, struggling to keep his voice steady. _It’s been a week since you nearly bled to death in the back of your van. You can't get to the bathroom and back on your own. You were a paramedic; if you saw someone in your current condition would you advise that they be left to care for themselves alone?_ The Joker’s eyes narrow.

 _No..._ he mutters and Wayne sits on the bed next to him, puts his hands on the Joker’s knees.

 _Listen,_ he says, _i know that you don’t like when i impose on Alfred when it comes to you, but he’s really okay with this. i’ve already spoken to him about it. And i know that you think you’re too tough to need anything from anybody, but you’ve got to listen to me now._ Wayne looks at him. _Just let him help you. Please_. The other man stares back for a long moment, 

then sighs, and pouts out his lip.

 _If you ever tell anybody what a sucker you can make outta me i’ll kill you Bruce Wayne,_ he growls, and flops back against the pillow.

 _No you won’t,_ Wayne says as he smiles, and leans over him to kiss him. The Joker squirms away but can’t hide the light in his eyes as Wayne gently (gently!) pins him down by his wrists and waits until he stops pretending to struggle. Wayne looks down at him, with his dark blonde curls spread out across the satin. Wayne looks down at him, 

with his full pink lips in a false pout begging to be kissed while they’re still warm from sleep so Wayne does, and the clown stops struggling, and the soft moan that he breathes into Wayne’s mouth sends his aching heart racing sends pins and needles dancing up and down his limbs Wayne

doesn’t want to leave, but he doesn’t have a choice. 

He forces himself to pull away and whispers _i’ll be back soon okay_ into the shell of the Joker’s ear. _i’ll be back soon._


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for some semi-gnarly injury description. And there's puking because i am disgusting and enjoy torturing the things i love.

_How bad is it? What’s your temperature? Let me talk to_

_Relaaax Bruce Wayne, i’m okay. If you could just pick up some stuff from my apartment before you leave that would be great._

_No Joker, i’m coming straight there_. Wayne’s tripping over his sweatpants pulling them up with one hand while holding his phone with the other and his heart is racing

_Come on, you know that bullet wounds get infected all the time. The zithromax should knock it out in a few days. Just stop by my place really quick for me._

_Joker_

_Please?_

_Joker..._

_Pretty please? With cherry flavored lube on top?_

_Fine,_ Wayne says through gritted teeth. _What do you need._

* * *

It’s nearing dawn when Wayne lands the plane on the strip. 

He’s barely made it through the front door before he’s dropping his luggage, dropping 

the case that contains the batsuit, he’s on his knees beside the sofa and his hands

are on the Joker’s cheeks brushing against the Joker’s sweaty forehead feeling the fever burning under the Joker’s pale skin while the clown looks at him through opiate-dim eyes. 

He seems very drugged. And shaky and weak. 

_Alfred said you’ve been feeling ill since last night,_ Wayne snaps. _Why were you hiding this from me?_

 _i wasn’t hiding anything,_ the Joker retorts. His voice sounds scratchy, and painful. _You were gonna find out today anyway, and i didn’t want to give you a_...his eyes roll to the television and unfocus for a moment before he seems to pick up his train of thought again... _fucking panic attack when you had a plane to fly. And besides, your butler has everything under control see. i'm on levofloxacin now._ He gestures to an array of pill bottles on the coffee table with trembling fingers. Wayne scrubs a hand through his hair. 

_You told me you were only allergic to penicillin._

_Because i **am** only allergic to penicillin. But i tend to have sensitivities to antibiotics in general._

_It’s more than a sensitivity Joker, if the azythromycin made you throw up all night._

_Could be_ , the Joker concedes. _It could be from the infection itself too. Speaking of that_...he grits his teeth suddenly. _i think i’m gonna go again, could you_ —he points to a bucket on the floor that smells like antiseptic. Wayne hands it to him, frowning.

 _Do you want me to leave?_ He asks but the Joker shakes his head. His ponytail is beginning to fall out so Wayne sits beside him, sweeps the bleached curls back again and wraps the elastic tightly around them while the Joker pants over the bucket, growling to himself. _Are you in pain?_ Wayne asks, trying not to sound anxious but he’s not convinced he doesn’t sound like he’s about to go to pieces like all those little pieces of him are about to break apart and fly everywhere all at once

 _The cramping’s kind of a bitch_ , the Joker admits quietly, and Wayne

comes back down. 

_Sweetheart_ , he murmurs before he’s able to stop himself, and puts his hand on the Joker’s back. The Joker tenses up and spits, and Wayne startles 

as a bottle of water settles on the table beside him, didn’t even realize that Alfred

had approached them with medicine and tissues and clean towels in his arms. He deposits them, squeezes Wayne’s shoulder and whisks away as silently as he came, giving the two of them privacy as the Joker begins to gag.

 _Fuck_ , he chokes as his muscles contract, and Wayne can do nothing for him except rub his back and flinch sympathetically when he heaves. Wayne’s vomited with broken ribs before and the pain shock left him nearly begging for morphine. 

_i’m sorry Shugs,_ he murmurs and the Joker chuckles, despite having just thrown up an entire bottle’s worth of purple gatorade. 

_Nobody would believe me if i told em Batman’s got a bleeding heart under all that armor,_ he remarks as he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. 

_That’s disgusting,_ Wayne tells him, ignoring the statement. _Here._ He wipes the clown’s hands and mouth with a wet cloth, gives him a bottle of water so that he can rinse and spit. 

By the time he’s settled the Joker’s exhausted and half asleep, so Wayne takes advantage and peels back the gauze on his shoulder to check the infected wound. 

The gauze comes away soaked in blood and pus. 

Wayne drops the fabric into the bucket to deal with later and opens an alcohol wipe to mop up the suppuration at the base of the wound. The hole itself is puffy and red but not terribly so, and Wayne makes quick work of cleaning and re-bandaging it so as to not cause the Joker more pain than absolutely necessary. When he’s done Wayne pulls off his gloves, moves the bucket to the far corner of the sofa, 

takes the Joker into his arms, 

and closes his eyes. But 

all Wayne can see is the Joker lying in his van, completely shredded and soaked in blood. 

Wayne blinks, and closes his eyes again, 

but the image remains, playing on a loop before him, and it’s all Wayne can do not to squeeze the Joker tight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The description of the Joker's nausea and stomach cramping from azithromycin is based off of a truly horrendous reaction i had to the antibiotic [doxycycline](https://www.drugs.com/doxycycline.html).


	6. Chapter 6

By evening the Joker seemed to be feeling less ill and more alert, to the point where he asked Wayne if they could go down to the beach and sit in the water for a while,

to bring his fever down so that he might be able to sleep.

Wayne could have taken the Joker down in a wheelchair, but 

he wanted to carry him. He carried him all the way to the water’s edge, 

into the water, 

Just deep enough so that the Joker’s stitches wouldn’t get wet.

 

Wayne stands in the surf up to his waist now

gazing down at the man floating below him,

encircled in his arms, with his dirty golden curls fanning out into the water. 

The Joker looks so peaceful like this, in spite of the scrapes and stitches and bruises peppering his body like a map of his wars. 

Wayne reaches out to trace the edge of the newest bullet wound in the Joker’s shoulder and before he even realizes it his eyes are burning, his vision is blurring 

_Bruce?_ The Joker’s hand comes up to cup his cheek. Wayne blinks, watches two tears fall into the water over the Joker’s chest. _What’s with the waterworks Bruce Wayne?_

_i..._ Wayne slowly backs up, until he’s sitting at the water’s edge with the Joker cradled in his crossed legs. The Joker just stares up at him blankly, and Wayne can barely speak past the lump in his throat. _i was afraid of losing you_ , he chokes out at last. _That night. i don’t..._ he sniffs, and looks away,

out over the ocean.

_You can’t be afraid of that,_ comes the gravel voice from Wayne’s lap. He nods, and new tears spring to his eyes that he forces back.

 _i know,_ he mumbles. _i didn’t mean to be...but i am._

_Well that’s a problem,_ the Joker says quietly, and Wayne’s sniffing back more snot and tears trying to keep them from falling all over the Joker's face

 _It’s your problem too,_ he whispers. _You let me in_. The Joker hums in a thoughtful way, and turns his head towards the sea.

_i did,_ he agrees, taking Wayne’s hand. _i guess i didn’t mean to...but i did_. He squeezes Wayne’s fingers, and 

Wayne can’t stop the damned tears any more than he can stop his chest from swelling with affection for the man in his arms. Wayne can’t help 

but draw the Joker closer to him,

so close that all he can smell is blood and sweat and gunpowder so close

that he can feel their hearts beating against one another so close

that when the Joker’s breath stutters Wayne can barely breathe.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce Wayne is one of those rich guys with a TV in his fucking bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW there is more semi-gross bathroom stuff in this chapter, although nothing is described in detail. Antibiotics'll do that to you, folks...

Wayne tips his head up into the shower spray to let the cool water run over his face. He opens his mouth and swallows, shivering as he feels the liquid hit his stomach. Over the water falling Wayne hears a small sound of discomfort, and he turns his head to observe the frosted glass outline of the figure across the room, sitting hunched on his toilet. 

The Joker’s been there for the better part of the past twenty-four hours, at the mercy of the levoxacin. He’s been trying to read a book, but he’s spent most of the time doubled over and growling from the pain of the cramps. Wayne shuts off the shower pulls on a robe and goes to him, 

stands in front of him, 

rests a hand on the top of his head. His hair is soaked through with sweat. The Joker looks up at Wayne, smiling in a tired sort of way.

 _You don’t have to camp out in here with me,_ he says. _i mean i appreciate the company but_ —he gasps suddenly and clutches at his abdomen, and

Wayne’s heart aches. He’s been giving the Joker as much imodium as possible but it hasn’t helped much. He can move around a bit on his own and he’s not vomiting anymore, but the strength of the antibiotic is battering his system to the point where he can only rest for an hour or two at a time.

 _You poor thing_ , Wayne murmurs, and the Joker laughs low and ragged. 

_i’ve been called a lot of names in my day but ‘poor thing’ certainly ain’t one of em._

_i’ll call you whatever i want,_ Wayne tells him. _And i’m not leaving you_. (i could never leave you like this) Wayne wants to say,

but he doesn’t. _After i change out your IV line do you want to watch some television or something? Get your mind off of this? i’ll bring in a chair._ The Joker grins, and there’s a glint in his eye that Wayne hasn’t seen since before they arrived at the island. 

It gives him hope even as he wonders what the hell the clown is going to make him sit through next. 

_Okay how many more films did John Waters make?_ Wayne asks, trying not to sound apprehensive. _God, he’s still alive isn’t he._

_No, no..._ the other man gestures at the doorway. _You brought those DVDs i asked for right._

_Of course i did_. Wayne heads for the door. _i don’t think High School Musical is really my thing but i’m not the one stuck on the toilet shitting my insides out so…_

 _It’ll make me feel better,_ the Joker says. _It’s my favorite._ He looks so tired, 

and wrung out. Wayne goes back to him, kisses the top of his head (twice) and goes out into the bedroom.

* * *

_So the blonde girl is named after a dog? Like those wrinkly ones from China?_

_No you idiot, it’s spelled differently._

_She reminds me more of a Pomeranian. Or some small spoiled yappy dog, anyway._

_Hey if you insult Tisdale again i’m gonna pop you_.

Wayne laughs. _In your state a toddler could beat you up._

_Hmmm,_ the Joker sighs. _Perhaps._ Wayne kisses his scarred cheek, presses a hand against his forehead, smiles when he feels dull heat instead

of an intense burn.

_Your fever’s going down at least. How’s your shoulder._

_It's okay, Bruce Wayne,_ the clown reassures him. _Don’t worry that pretty head of yours, i’m doing okay_. He reaches back to flush the toilet and nuzzles into Wayne’s chest. _Now shhh, this is my favorite song._


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THERE WILL BE 9 CHAPTERS. ONLY 9 I SWEARS

The stars are fading when Wayne finally helps the Joker out of the bathroom (he insisted upon walking on his own)

puts him to bed

and surrounds him with as many pillows as Wayne can find.

Alfred called to inform him that the signal went up fifteen minutes ago, but Wayne wants to be sure his friend is comfortable before he leaves again. 

The Joker rubs his cheek against the silk covers and stretches out like a cat, wincing a little when he unfolds all the way.

_Ow._

_Your poor stomach_ , Wayne murmurs. He bends to kiss the skin just above the Joker’s navel.

_It’s been through worse._

_It’s been through a lot today._ Wayne straightens up and runs the tips of his fingers up the Joker’s abdomen. _Are you okay? Do you need to go to the bathroom again?_

_No, it’s just..._ the Joker curls in on himself a little, clutching a pillow to his middle. Wayne takes in the clown’s posture, makes a decision, and reaches for the needle and the morphine sulfate on the bedside table. He wipes the top of the little bottle clean to prevent contamination and syringes it quickly before injecting it into the Joker’s IV port. Within a few seconds the Joker relaxes,

and sinks back into the bed.

 _There it is,_ Wayne says quietly, rubbing at the Joker’s back. _Better?_

 _Yeah,_ the Joker whispers. _C’mere._

Wayne does (against his better judgement) and spoons up behind.

Tugs the blanket over them both. (Just for ten minutes) Wayne tells himself. Just ten minutes, then he’ll put on the cowl. 

_i’m going to tell Alfred to keep you on imodium and morphine for now_ , Wayne says to the back of the Joker’s head. _Hopefully that’ll slow your gut down enough so you don’t end up watching High School Musical Two and Three in my bathroom today_. 

_Wouldn’t watch em without you Bruce Wayne,_ the Joker mumbles into the pillow. _You gotta kick some extra ass and come back soon so we can get on to their summer break._ Wayne yawns.

_i can’t wait._

 

_Master Bruce?_

Wayne jerks awake, pulled from the soft warmth of the Joker’s form and into the realization that Alfred is standing over them, Wayne’s suitcase 

in his hands. 

_Master Bruce,_ Alfred repeats. _i’m sorry to interrupt but you really should be going. Commissioner Gordon’s had the signal up for over an hour_. 

_Oh, god._ Wayne rubs his eyes, feels his cheeks reddening as he shifts the Joker off his shoulder and wipes at the clown’s saliva that’s collected there. _i only meant to stay for a few minutes but i’ve been up all night with him and he was so sick, i just wanted to_

 _It’s alright,_ Alfred interrupts quietly, and Wayne falls silent, doesn’t even want to think about the possibility that his butler has been watching him sleep entwined with his mortal enemy _Is **he** alright?_ Alfred asks, nodding at the Joker, who has taken the opportunity to crawl into Wayne’s lap. 

_He's high as a goddamned kite_ , the Joker drawls. _Feels nice._

_He's not alright. Not yet,_ Wayne admits. _But he’s getting there._

_He’s getting there,_ the Joker echoes sleepily, and Wayne jumps at the sound of Alfred laughing quick and low before he sweeps out of the room. _Your dad’s a good guy,_ the Joker sighs into Wayne’s thigh. _You’re lucky to have him you know._

_He’s not—_ Wayne starts, but something stops him. _Yes,_ he starts again. _Yes i am._


	9. Chapter 9

**Two weeks later**

 

After his fourth return from Gotham, Wayne

opens his front door to discover that Joker isn’t on the sofa,

or in the bedroom

or anywhere in the house. Wayne swallows back what he knows is unnecessary panic, pulls out his phone and calls his butler.

_Welcome back, Sir._

_Where is he?_

_Good morning to you too, Master Bruce._

_Alfred..._

_Check the beach. You’ll find him._

_You let him go down to the beach? Alfred—_

_i didn’t let. Him do anything, Sir. He’s a grown man._

_Hardly,_ Wayne sighs. _Thanks for looking after him while i was gone._

 _You’re welcome,_ Alfred replies (with sincerity, Wayne realizes) and hangs up.

  
Wayne finds the Joker stretched out on a lawn chair on the beach, lounging half-asleep under an umbrella. His eyes snap open as Wayne approaches, and he sits up faster than he could have when Wayne last left.

 _Hi._ The Joker shakes a few curls out of his face and smiles (that real smile, it gets Wayne every time) and Wayne embraces him carefully while the clown mutters something about not being a porcelain doll into his stomach.

Still a doll though, Wayne wants to say but he doesn’t.

 _i heard that Bruce Wayne_ , the Joker mumbles, and Wayne shivers as goosebumps

light up all over his skin. The Joker’s busy nuzzling at the waistband of Wayne’s shorts. _Take these off_ , he says, tugging at them a little with his teeth. _i missed you. i need you_. Wayne backs up a fraction of an inch.

 _Hang on there_. _We’ll scar Alfred even deeper for life if we_ —he gasps as the Joker presses down a bit on his cock— _if we start up right here. We’ll have to move_. The Joker wraps his arms around Wayne’s waist hitches himself up higher and breathes

 _i’ll go anywhere_ , into the center of Wayne’s chest. _i’d fuck you in a dumpster_ —Wayne ducks down and kisses him to shut him up, and lifts him. Carries him all the way back up the path and through the kitchen and into the bathroom, so that he can rinse the sand off inch

by inch.

 

 _Don’t be nice to me_ , the Joker growls and Wayne’s hard now that they’re in bed now that he’s hearing this man beneath him pant and beg like a dog _i need it Bruce i need you to hurt me Bruce it’s okay, i’ll tell you if it’s too much i swear_

 _Shhhh_ , Wayne forces himself to whisper against the Joker’s cheek. _Joker take a breath_. The Joker obeys, pulls away enough to take a deep breath, then another, and he seems a little surprised

at how much he needed the air.

 _You’re not well enough for that kind of thing_ , Wayne tells him, sitting back on his heels. _How am i supposed to hold you down if your wrists are still more road rash than skin._

The Joker pouts his lip out, and something about the expression on his face gives

Wayne an idea.

Wayne gets a wonderful, awful idea.

 _Come sit_ , he says to the Joker, taking his hands. He leads the other man to the edge of bed and guides him to sit down. Then Wayne crosses the room to his desk and begins to search through the papers and pens and business cards until he finds what he’s been looking for:

a spool of black thread. Wayne’s still so turned on, he’s buzzing electric, he

can feel the Joker’s gaze on him, curious, trying to discern the game before Wayne’s even begun it. Wayne turns around

and walks back to him, keeping their eyes locked. The clown’s expression is neutral but there’s something in his pupils beginning to smoulder, and when Wayne sits down beside him his lips curl up smiling into the scars.

 _Can you sit on the floor for me?_ Wayne asks and the Joker obeys immediately, sliding down to sit cross-legged at Wayne’s feet. Wayne’s cock twitches. He gently takes up the Joker’s right hand, kisses his middle knuckle and holds it in the air between them, then shifts slightly to take the pressure off of his own cock as he winds the thread just once around the Joker’s middle and ring finger. The Joker huffs in a breath, and Wayne can feel his excitement vibrating in the air between them until it drops off as Wayne bites the thread off, leaving a single length of it tying the Joker’s two fingers to each other.

_That’s it?_

_That’s it,_ Wayne confirms, smiling down at him. _You’re mine now. Right?_ And then Wayne’s cock goes diamond hard as he sees the idea Click in the Joker’s mind Wayne’s cock

goes even harder still when he hears the two words

 _i’m yours,_ fall from the Joker’s kiss-swollen lips.

 _And you always will be mine,_ Wayne tells him, _No matter what happens._ He ignores the twinge in his heart and cups the Joker’s chin in his hand. The Joker leans into it, kisses Wayne’s thumb. _Now i’m going to go take care of this—_ Wayne reaches down to touch himself— _so you wait here for a minute. Then we’re going to have a late breakfast with Alfred, and then after that i’m going to take you up here and fuck you, and if between the time we leave this room, and the time i come in you...if this thread breaks..._ Wayne rubs his thumb over it for emphasis _Then i’m stopping, and you’ll have to wait._

 _If i screw up, how long do i have to wait?_ The Joker asks and he’s excited again, Wayne can tell.

 _Just until after sunset,_ Wayne tells him. The Joker tilts his head to one side.

_But it’s ten thirty in the morning._

_i know._ Wayne grins. _i know. Does that sound okay to you?_ The Joker nods. _Good. Now get dressed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote "wonderful, awful idea" is from [How The Grinch Stole Christmas...](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oUUdW2bTa3Y)


	10. Chapter 10

The moment they re-enter the bedroom, Wayne backs the Joker up against the closest wall and kisses him. The Joker’s mouth falls open with no resistance, leaving Wayne to take charge and Wayne wants it that way. He runs his hands softly up under the Joker’s oversized INXS t-shirt, pausing to circle his fingers around the clown’s nipples. The Joker gasps,

and slides his fettered hand up the wall, holding it above his head while his free hand grasps at Wayne’s belt loops.

 

By the time breakfast was nearly over Joker was practically vibrating with nervous energy, to the point where Wayne had to leave his food half-finished before Alfred realized that something was going on. The butler had more than likely noticed their hasty retreat, Wayne realizes in retrospect, but watching the clown watch him eating pancakes with That Look in eye proved a little too much for Wayne,

in the end.

Wayne holds the Joker close now, pushing their erections together in sync with the beat of their hearts making the Joker growl with need. There’s lubricant in the bedside table but it’s all the way across the room.

 _We’ve gotta—ah—get over there somehow_ , the Joker pants, and the same gooseflesh prickles out all over Wayne’s skin.

 _How do you do that?_ He breathes into the Joker’s ear as he tugs him over to the bed.

 _Do what?_ The Joker chuckles, and Wayne’s shaken to his core, wondering how this man can creep so deeply inside his head and snatch out his thoughts, wondering how this man has always been able to do so from the very first day that they met

The rattling of the drawer brings Wayne back into himself, and before he can speak he’s staring at the Joker, kneeling in front of him, the bottle in his hands.

 

The thread around his fingers is still there, unbroken through it all.

 

 _You’ve done well,_ Wayne murmurs, stroking his fingers through the Joker’s hair. The Joker hums in a contented little way that tears at Wayne’s heart. He seems so far from a monster when he’s here,

at Wayne's feet.

Wayne takes the Joker’s hands, helps him up and tugs him gently onto the bed. Wayne kisses him, holding his hands tightly holding onto the only parts of him that aren’t damaged or bruised or cut, the only parts of him that can stand to be held

 _Fuck me,_ the Joker whispers, pulling back to look at him. _Just fuck me Bruce, i need you. It’s been so long._ Wayne kisses his forehead.

_All right._

He guides the other man to lie back, pulling his underpants off as they go. The Joker’s cock is red and fully hard and terribly tempting, but Wayne leaves it alone as he slicks up a finger and gently pushes inside him, making him groan.

 _Two,_ the clown growls at him.

 _Wait,_ Wayne replies, and slowly crooks his finger. The Joker yelps. _Wait,_ Wayne repeats, _and i’ll make you see stars. I’ll make you see white._

The look the Joker gives him is priceless.

 _Keep that hand still,_ Wayne warns. _i wouldn’t want to have to stop now_. The Joker lets out a half-snarl and raises his bound hand above his head to lie on the pillow, while the other goes straight to his erection. _Good,_ Wayne tells him, crooking the same finger again. _Good. Now just relax, and let me do everything._

  
  
At half-past six they fall through the sliding doors out onto the balcony and fuck on one of the lounge chairs, while the sunset sends pink and orange scattering across the ocean. Wayne keeps his movements slow and deliberate, as if he were fucking a figure made of millimeter-thin glass. One month ago today, the man beneath him nearly died. One month ago today Wayne

 

would have been trying to crawl into the casket after him.

 

Wayne pushes the thought away and pushes deeper into the Joker until he’s up to the hilt until the Joker is visibly straining to keep still enough to keep that damned thread intact.

 _What if we could spend every day here_ ? Wayne asks as he kisses his way up the Joker’s arm. _You’re so beautiful when you’re like this_. The Joker laughs.

_You’re dreaming._

_i'm allowed._ Wayne kisses the thread, sucks the two fingers into his mouth and the Joker moans.

 _i'm ready_ , he whispers, locking his eyes with Wayne’s. _Are you ready?_ Wayne nods,

and reaches down to touch him.

 

The thread around his fingers is still there, unbroken through it all.

* * *

**Epilogue**

The moment they fell through the sliding door the two of them were both so caught up in the moment that neither noticed the man on the opposite balcony,

bringing in the laundry. At least,

Alfred was bringing in the laundry until a sound drew his attention, and he realized what he was seeing.

He dropped his laundry basket fled into the kitchen took a bottle of Bruce’s most expensive scotch and made for his own beach house,

never to be seen or heard from again.

Until Bruce showed up the next morning to apologize profusely,

 

and give him another raise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS ENTIRE STORY came about because my lovely internet wife futilefear asked for a prompt where Alfred catches Bruce banging J on a balcony. i swear ta gad. 
> 
> THANK YOU ALL FOR READING FRIENDS <3


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